The decision to sneak back into Piltover was made with the same gravity two children use when deciding which flavor of ice cream to steal. However, a problem had already arisen—one that was now sitting on the floor, tied up and glaring daggers at them. Caitlyn.
"So, what do we do with the pet?" Jinx asked, tapping Caitlyn's head with the tip of her boot. "Leave her here? We could toss her into the Sump."
Caitlyn stiffened.
"A permanent solution, certainly," analyzed Kaen, pacing around Caitlyn like a shark evaluating its prey. "And leaving her alone is a risk—she might escape and, in the process, vandalize my sacred resting place out of spite," he added, patting the sofa. He paused, a brilliant idea forming in his mind. "Besides, disposing of her would be a waste of a perfectly good resource. We can't embark on an epic stealth adventure and leave behind our only captive audience. Who would appreciate our genius if no one was around to hate us for it?"
Jinx let out a muffled snicker.
Kaen stopped in front of Caitlyn, looking down at her. "We'll bring her with us."
Caitlyn stared at him in disbelief. "WHAT?!"
Jinx raised a brow. "Bring her? To Piltover? Are you insane? That's like bringing your own personal cop to a robbery."
"Think about it," Kaen told Jinx, ignoring the protests of his hostage. "She's insurance on legs. If the Enforcers catch us, we can negotiate: 'Grant us safe passage, or your precious cadet will suffer a tragic tuning accident with my bass.' It's a classic negotiation tactic. And most importantly," he added with absolute solemnity, "bringing a hostage adds a touch of professionalism to our operation. It shows we mean business."
Jinx tilted her head, considering it. The idea was crazy. Which is exactly why she loved it. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. "I like it," she said. "Having her around will be way more fun. Plus, this way I can make sure she doesn't touch my stuff."
"You're completely deranged!" Caitlyn shouted, struggling against her bonds. "You can't just drag me all over Zaun and Piltover! I'm an officer of the Piltover Enforcers! I demand—"
"You demand too much," Jinx cut her off cheerfully, moving closer with a strip of bright pink cloth. "We just need to gag you first. Your voice is annoying."
With the Caitlyn "problem" solved (she was now gagged and watching with silent fury), the next phase of the plan began: the outfit.
"You can't go back to Piltover in that filthy posh-boy outfit," Jinx declared, circling Kaen and inspecting him like a doll she was about to dress. "They've already clocked you once. That look screams 'I'm the weirdo from the terrible concert.' You need a new alter ego. Something more… discreet."
"Discreet?" Kaen repeated. "Discretion is the refuge of the talentless. I don't blend in, I stand out. I need something that says, 'I am an enigma, wrapped in mystery and high-quality leather.'"
"Okay, okay, 'leather enigma,' whatever you say," Jinx said, rolling her eyes. "But for that, we need material. Let's go shopping!"
"An excellent idea," said Kaen. "I need to stretch my legs."
"What about her?" Jinx asked, jerking a thumb toward Caitlyn.
Kaen considered it. "We can't drag her like this. Too obvious. Untie her legs. And put a hood on her. If anyone asks, we'll say she's my shy, goth cousin from Noxus. Nobody will dare ask further questions."
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And so, Zaun's most unlikely trio set out. Kaen and Jinx walked in front, Caitlyn being guided between them, hands tied behind her back beneath a ragged cloak and a hood pulled low over her face. To any bystander, they looked like a strange couple escorting a new initiate to some obscure dark cult.
The Night Market was an assault on the senses. The smell of fried oil, hot metal, and Shimmer filled the air. Neon lights flickered, casting dancing shadows. Kaen and Jinx moved through the chaos as if born to it. Their "shopping date" began.
Jinx dragged him first to a stall selling clothing salvaged from sunken Piltover shipments.
"Here," she said, pulling out a high-collared dress shirt, dark gray bordering on black, with subtle embroidery at the cuffs. A bit worn, but the quality undeniable.
Then her attention caught on a stall run by a burly Zaunite. Hanging on a scrap-metal mannequin was a black leather jacket. The centerpiece.
"Look at this!" Jinx exclaimed, dragging Kaen toward the stall. The jacket was made from the hide of some reptilian Sump creature, its shoulders reinforced with overlapping metal plates.
Kaen tried it on. It fit perfectly.
"I want it," Kaen declared, his monotone voice laced with a rare flicker of genuine desire, admiring himself in the reflection of a puddle. "The silhouette is bold. It conveys imminent danger and refined musical taste. I accept."
"You accept?" scoffed the vendor, the burly man. "Costs fifty gears."
Kaen looked at Jinx. Jinx smiled at the vendor. Then she tossed a small capsule to the ground. It exploded in a dense cloud of blue smoke and pre-recorded laughter that sounded eerily like Jinx's. By the time the smoke cleared, Kaen was wearing the jacket, and they were already three stalls away, dragging a terrified Caitlyn along.
They continued like that, a whirlwind of creative thefts. Jinx "negotiated" prices with smoke bombs, firecrackers, and, at one point, unleashing a swarm of mechanical insects that sent the crowd into a panic while Kaen "selected" the goods. They found fitted trousers in a dark purple shade, almost black, with faint vertical pinstripes, matched to Jinx's style. They were accented with leather straps and bronze buckles, giving them a utilitarian yet anarchic look. The boots were the easiest: heavy, military-style with steel toes—perfect for kicking things or just looking intimidating.
At a fabric stall, Jinx picked out colorful patches and scraps. "Needs a touch of color," she declared. "So it matches."
They perched on a rooftop overlooking the market while Jinx, with a needle and thread she had "borrowed," got to work, the neon glow of a nearby sign lighting her concentration. Caitlyn watched silently, bound and gagged, as the transformation took place.
Jinx wasn't just an engineer; she was an artist. She added an electric-blue silk lining to the inside of the leather jacket, a flash of her personal color only Kaen would know about. She reinforced the seams with thick purple thread. On the back, using stencils and stolen spray paint, she painted one of her bullet-cloud designs, merging it with the stylized silhouette of a bass guitar. A collaboration—her mark and his, intertwined.
"Why are you doing this?" Caitlyn asked, her voice muffled through the gag Kaen had insisted be loosened so she could "participate in the conversation."
"Doing what?" Jinx asked, not looking up from her stitching.
"All this… why?"
Jinx paused. Looked at Caitlyn, her expression briefly serious. "Because it's fun," she said simply. "And because I can." She glanced at Kaen. "And because he makes it even more fun."
Kaen, attempting to juggle three rusty gears, nodded solemnly. "Chaos without artistic direction is mere vandalism. I provide the aesthetic purpose."
When Jinx finished, she handed Kaen the outfit. He changed right there, in the rooftop shadows. The transformation was startling. The high-collared shirt gave him a sense of decadent nobility, reminiscent of Silco's style. But the leather jacket, fitted trousers, and heavy boots rooted him firmly in Zaun's anarchic rock aesthetic. The blue and purple accents visually tied him to Jinx—not as identical, but as complementary halves of a puzzle.
He no longer looked like a lost Piltie. He looked like he belonged to Zaun's chaos—a budding Chem-baron with the soul of a rockstar. Dangerous, strange, and perfectly matched at Jinx's side.
"Hmm," he said, staring into a shard of broken mirror. "Gives me the air of a post-apocalyptic band leader. I approve. Well done, stylist number one."
"Now," Jinx said, admiring her work with a satisfied grin. "You're ready for the show."
Meanwhile, Caitlyn looked on, her eyes brimming with monumental exasperation.
------
With Kaen now properly dressed in his new aesthetic, the trio returned to the turbine sanctuary. The atmosphere had shifted. It was no longer just Jinx's workshop; with Kaen's constant presence, and now a bound Piltover prisoner tied up in the corner, it had become a strange, dysfunctional base of operations.
During the whole shopping spree, the sun had set completely over Piltover.
"Well, crime geniuses," Caitlyn said, her voice dripping with exhausted sarcasm. They'd decided gagging her full-time was too much effort. "Now that you've finished your little fashion show, what exactly is the plan for this suicidal incursion?"
Jinx, who was sketching in the dusty floor with a metal rod, looked up. "It's not suicidal! It's strategic!" She drew a shaky line representing the river. "The problem is how to cross. The aqueducts are the stealthiest route. They come out right under the Academy district."
Kaen, still admiring how the leather jacket broadened his shoulders in a broken mirror shard, turned. "I object," he said flatly.
Jinx frowned. "Why? It's the best route."
"Because it smells like sewer," he explained with flawless logic. "I just acquired this magnificent leather garment. It is a work of art. I will not sully it with the stench of Piltover's waste. Art requires certain sacrifices, but smelling good is not one of them."
Caitlyn thumped the back of her head against the metal wall she was leaning against. She was trapped in a stealth mission planned by a lunatic with fashion priorities.
Jinx opened her mouth to argue, but then considered it. The idea of crawling through stinking tunnels suddenly felt less appealing. "Okay, fair point," she conceded. "So… what's plan B, genius?"
"Simple," said Kaen, moving to the improvised map. "We go underneath. Not through the sewers. Beneath the great bridges."
"The Pilties will have the bridges locked down from above," Jinx said, her fingers tracing the path. "But they're too uptight to guard the guts. It'll be empty."
"Exactly," Kaen said. "It's direct, offers an excellent view for a dramatic entrance, and most importantly, it's outdoors. Good for the jacket."
They sealed the plan with a nod. Preparation was minimal. Jinx stuffed her pockets with smoke grenades and some of her newer, less-lethal toys. Kaen checked that his bass was strapped securely to his back. It was his main weapon, after all. For Caitlyn, preparation meant Jinx tightening the knots on her wrists.
"Just in case you feel 'inspired' to try something stupid," Jinx said with a grin.
The trek through Zaun at night was tense. The city, though always noisy, seemed to thrum with a different pulse after dark. The trio moved silently, a strange procession. Kaen and Jinx in front, their silhouettes outlined against the distant neon glow. Caitlyn stumbled behind, unsteady on the uneven terrain, guided by a rope Jinx had tied from her wrists to Kaen's belt.
"I'm an accessory," Caitlyn thought bitterly. "I'm a lunatic's handbag."
Finally, they reached the banks of the Pilt River. The border. The air here was colder, the mist rising from the Sump thick, wrapping the world in a gray, silent shroud. The massive bridge supports loomed like the legs of metal titans, disappearing into the fog above. Just as Jinx had predicted, the flashing lights of Enforcer barricades were visible far overhead. But down here, on the polluted shore, there was no one.
Only one problem. A big one.
"The river," Kaen said, his monotone breaking the silence. The black, oily water flowed sluggishly, an insurmountable obstacle. Too wide to jump, and swimming in that chemical soup was suicide for the two girls with him.
"Damn," Jinx muttered. "Usually there's a smuggler with a boat around here, but looks like he's gone tonight. Probably scared off by the Enforcers."
They stood there, their grand plan stopped cold by a simple body of water. Caitlyn, despite her situation, felt a flicker of satisfaction. They were stuck. Maybe, just maybe, they'd give up and drag her back to the workshop.
Suddenly, a sound broke the silence. A soft putt-putt-putt. A small motor, approaching through the dense fog.
The three of them instinctively ducked behind a pile of rusty barrels, Kaen yanking Caitlyn's rope to pull her down. Through the thick haze, a small silhouette materialized, growing clearer. A flat-bottomed boat emerged from the mist, its motor little more than a whisper. At the helm stood a tiny, peculiar figure.
A yordle. A diminutive being, covered in blond fur with a magnificent mustache. He wore a hooded cloak that did little to hide his distinctly furry features, and his outfit—though hidden under the cloak—still bore the unmistakable quality of Piltover craftsmanship.
Kaen recognized him from Progress Day statues and posters. The venerable inventor. Heimerdinger.
The yordle seemed to be heading toward Zaun's shore, oblivious to their presence. Jinx was already pulling out Zapper. "Perfect. A taxi."
"Wait," Kaen stopped her. "Threatening a scientific celebrity might cause a diplomatic incident. Let me try diplomacy first. My charm is legendary."
Before Jinx could argue, Kaen stood up and stepped out from behind the barrels. He waved, as if hailing a carriage.
"Boatman!" he called, his monotone voice echoing over the water. "We require passage! We promise not to stain the upholstery! And my shy Noxian cousin needs to be home before curfew!"
The yordle in the boat startled, nearly losing his balance. He steered the boat toward them, his small face a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
Heimerdinger cut the motor. The little craft drifted up to the shore with a gentle scrape. He peered at the strange trio: the tall young man dressed in a bizarre mix of gothic nobility and anarchic rock, the blue-braided girl holding a gun both naive-looking and dangerous, and the hooded woman who was very clearly bound and being treated as luggage. His wide eyes blinked.
His face showed no fear. Only deep, deep scientific curiosity.
"Fascinating," Heimerdinger murmured to himself. "What an unusual composition. Might I inquire, my young friends, where exactly you're hurrying off to with such… baggage?"